To Dora - Poem by William Wordsworth

”A little onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little further on!” –What trick of memory to ‘my’ voice hath brought This mournful iteration? For though Time, The Conqueror, crowns the Conquered, on this brow Planting his favourite silver diadem, Nor he, nor minister of his–intent To run before him–hath enrolled me yet, Though not unmenaced…
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